Shame of Man (20 page)

This cave is now known as Cosquer. It can no longer be entered afoot; when the ice age ended, the level of the water rose, and the Mediterranean Sea expanded across lands that had been near the shore. The cave had been several miles inland, but now its entrance is more than a hundred feet below the surface. All of the access tunnel and half the main cave is flooded. So are the camps and hunting grounds of mankind in that region; you might say that mankind lived under the sea. We may never know the details of the lives of those coastal dwellers, because the sea washed them out.

Two thousand years after Mina left her handprint, using the “spitting image” technique that we have understood only recently, another tribe used the cave for paintings. They cleared out the bones and decorated the cave first with more hand stencils, then with the largest variety of animals and designs known
in such a context. About a hundred animals have been found painted or engraved, including three auks
—
the only such depictions of this seabird known. But this may be only half the original total, because the rising water washed out the lower ones, including Mina's original handprint.

It seems natural that when self-consciousness brought awareness of similar awareness in other human beings, folk also suspected that it existed in animals and even in inanimate things, such as the surging sea, shaking mountains, and the dead. The spirit of self-consciousness seemed to exist apart from the tangible body, perhaps as an independent entity. If there was doubt, it was better to play it safe, and propitiate any spirits that might be in the vicinity. Thus, perhaps, another beginning of religion, with its attendant ceremonies. But the arts were also pleasurable in themselves, so they continued to flourish wherever mankind existed. It's too bad that music and dance left no tangible records in the way that painting and sculpture did. We have no evidence that musical counterpoint existed in early times, yet our deep appreciation of it can hardly have developed only in the past thousand years, so here it is assumed that it existed, though in limited form. We have surely missed man's most dynamic artistic aspects.

CHAPTER 9

HORSE

Start at the Atlantic Ocean. Pass east through the narrow Strait of Gibraltar to enter the smaller Mediterranean Sea, around which so much of mankind's political development has taken place. Pass northeast through the Dardanelles Strait and on into the yet smaller Black Sea, a region more important than many historians have credited it for being. Pass north through the Kerch Strait into the tiny Sea of Azov, widely unknown. This is surely a backwater of human activity. Yet here, perhaps, began one of the greatest ongoing conquests of all human history
—
one that is still in progress.

The time is about 6,500 years ago, and nothing much is happening. Yet retrospect can provide significance for even tiny events.

A
S the dawn came, it was clear that the spirits had let them be. Perhaps it was the music and dance they had done by the burial ground at dusk, and perhaps the magic symbols they had drawn in the dirt. But Hugh believed it was mostly that little Mina had always been a child of the spirits, and that the family was safe as long as she was part of it. They had acquired her somewhat haphazardly, but it was clear that their lives had improved thereafter.

Rather than hurry out of the deep sacred grove as if afraid, they delayed, waiting for the tribesmen to come and find them. Anne served out crusts of bread, while Hugh cleaned up their campsite; it would not do to leave a mess in spirit territory. Then as the sun blazed hugely across the water of the great lake, they settled down to divert themselves as if without any concern for their locale. That, of course, was part of the act.

They were making toys for their children. Hugh fashioned a wheeled wagon, while Anne made a tiny pot. Naturally the children asked awkward questions.

“Why not just carry the stuff?” Chip asked. He was curious about everything, just as Hugh himself had been at that age.

“Because more can be moved on the wagon,” Hugh replied. “If there is a level trail to push it along.” He demonstrated by pushing the toy wagon with his finger. The carved wheels squeaked, and the wagon weewawed as it moved, but it did make progress.

Chip smiled. He pushed the wagon himself, liking the way it reacted.

Meanwhile, Anne presented Mina with the pot. It looked just like a real one, with its wide round top and pointed base. “Don't try to jam it in the ground yet,” Anne cautioned her. “Wait for it to dry and harden.”

Mina took the pot and turned it around in her hands. Though still tiny, she was already clever with her hands. She liked to paint pictures in dirt, and she could play the little wood flute Hugh had carved for her, making recognizable tunes. In fact she took after her parents to such an extent that no one would have guessed she had been adopted.

“I want mark it,” she said.

“You can decorate it with a stick,” Anne told her. “It is still soft. Just use the point to make your marks.”

“That too long. I want nice mark, now.”

Anne cast about for something. “Maybe you can roll it on something, to mark it.”

“No.” Then the child caught up the cord that tied her clothing together. She wrapped it around the upper rim of the jar, pressing it in. When she
pulled it away, there was the pattern of the cord, impressed on the clay. “There.”

Anne nodded. “That's very clever, Mina. Maybe I should decorate my own pots that way.”

“Yes,” Mina said decisively. “They'll look nice.”

Then they heard someone coming, and waited quietly. It turned out to be the woman called Seed, with her three-year-old son named Tree. She had helped them get settled in the village two days ago, and her little boy had played with Mina. Hugh had a strange feeling for a moment that there should have been two or three small children, but of course that was a fleeting dream fragment. He found himself taken by such bits of unreality at times, and had learned to shake them off.

Seed was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had seen, apart from Anne. And of course Anne caught him looking. She laughed. “I will teach her to dance just like me; then you will know for sure.”

Hugh did not reply. Anne was not the jealous type; she knew that he appreciated lovely women, and that he touched no other but her.

Seed looked relieved as she joined them. “Of course I believed that you had the confidence of the spirits,” she said. “Yet I was concerned.”

“We are charmed by the spirits,” Hugh said. “Now we shall return to your tribe and teach you music and dance. There should be no more trouble with those who doubt us.”

Seed still looked uncertain. “Sis is jealous of Anne's beauty, and seeks to undermine it. I know the way of that.”

Surely she did, being lovely herself. “But they can't do anything more,” Anne said, half in question.

“Those two are devious. You must watch out for them.”

“We shall do so,” Hugh agreed.

They went to the village center, with its clustered oval houses, where the women were suitably impressed to see them alive and hale. They went to work, with Hugh and Chip demonstrating the tricky art of flute playing, while Anne and Mina instructed interested women in the art of provocative dancing. A white-clad priest watched, but stayed clear; he was present only to show that this matter had been cleared with the priesthood and was not objectionable. Most of the villagers wore the brown clothing of the herders or cultivators. Hugh and Anne wore green, the innocuous color of travelers.

Seed was the first to try the dance, while little Tree eagerly attempted Chip's flute. The little wooden flute was expendable; Hugh had promised to make him a good one from a bird bone, similar to Hugh's own, when they found exactly the right bone. Seed was not only beautiful; she had a natural grace that facilitated her motions. Soon she and Anne were dancing together, matching step for step, hip for hip, smile for smile. Hugh stared,
entranced; they were like twins in their beauty, one in green, one in brown, the very essence of all that a man desired. The one in green had brown eyes, and the one in brown had green eyes, the seeming contrast enhancing the symmetry of their beauty.

A crowd was gathering, similarly intrigued, though perhaps the reasons differed with the sexes. More women joined the class, and Hugh played his melodies for them all, because music gave form to dance. He put Chip on the taut hide drum he had made, keeping the beat. Some of the men joined the dance, unable to resist the lure of beat and melody. It was becoming an excellent session.

But it could not go on forever. The villagers had work to do. So they agreed to return in the evening, when there would be another show. In the interim, Hugh and Anne could rest. Food was brought for them: barley bread, fermented mare's milk, baked fish, and dried strips of pig meat. They were eating well.

Then a woman approached, and they became cautious: it was Sis, who had caused her brother to challenge their favor with the spirits the day before. She was a dusky, sultry creature, unsmiling, but possessed of a healthy body. Surely she did not want to learn to dance.

She came to stand before Hugh. “There is a crippled child who dearly loves music. His family begs you to come play for him. I have brought horses so that you can go there and return with dispatch.”

Seed looked up and nodded; it seemed that there was such a child.

Hugh was taken aback. This was the last thing he had expected from this sullen woman. Yet it seemed it was legitimate. He looked at Anne. Her eyes narrowed, then relaxed. “Go,” she said. “I will rest here with the children. You should get experience on a horse.”

She knew what most others did not: that he was well experienced with horses, and enjoyed riding when he had the chance. So did Anne. On those occasions when they had access to horses, sometimes they raced each other. If it had been possible to care for horses adequately as they traveled, they would have trained their own. But because he did not trust this creature Sis, he did not clarify this. “You will have to lead me.”

Sis tried to mask her contempt for his supposed inadequacy. “The horse will follow mine,” she said. “You have merely to hold on.”

He walked with her to the horses. They were good enough animals, well cared for. The Yamnaya folk took pride in their horses, for they were one of the few tribes who had domesticated them for riding. Elsewhere, tribes hunted horses only for meat, not understanding how much more useful they could be. As a result, the Yamnayas and related tribes were far more mobile than most, and controlled a larger territory than their numbers might have suggested.

There were two mares, hobbled so they wouldn't drift. They were grazing at the edge of the village. Either mares or stallions could be ridden, but the
stallions were usually reserved for the warrior class, being larger, stronger, and more spirited. Still, Hugh knew that a good mare could run well enough.

“There is yours,” Sis said. “She is well trained and docile.”

Hugh could tell that by looking at the mare. But he did not try to mount her. He merely stood as if not knowing what to do.

“I will help you mount,” Sis said. “Stand directly by her side and bend your left knee. I will heave you up.”

“Oh. Yes.” He lifted his left foot, so that it was behind him. Sis locked her fingers together and put her linked hands under his knee. She heaved, and he swung his right leg up over the horse's back, so that he landed solidly. “Thank you.”

Sis then went to the other mare and mounted with considerably more dispatch. She knew horses, he could see, while she thought him a duffer. That was the way he preferred it. Just in case she was up to something.

Sis clicked to her mare, and the horse started forward. Hugh could have guided his animal similarly, but did not. However, after a moment she started on her own, following her companion mare. Horses tolerated people, but preferred the company of their own kind.

They moved at a pace at first leisurely, then briskly. Hugh got two handfuls of his mount's mane, making a show of hanging on, though he was not in discomfort. Sis was perhaps teasing him, trying to see how fast the horses had to go before he begged for a slower pace.

Actually she was doing him a favor, unknowingly, because he was able to get to know the mare in her different paces, and to have the mare get to know him. He did this by murmuring to her in a voice too low for Sis to hear, and by applying pressure with his knees, guiding her where he wished. She was responsive, and became more so as she developed confidence in his competence. Rapport with a horse was one of the most important aspects of training. But to Sis it looked as if he were barely surviving. After a time she slowed the pace, perhaps concerned that he would fall off, and she would get the blame.

They came in due course to the shore of the great lake. “Itti's family lives on an island,” Sis explained. “We will leave the horses here with hay.” There was a crude enclosure with hay piled within it, so it was clear that the horses would be all right.

Hugh dismounted clumsily, but patted the mare on the side away from Sis. “We shall be together again soon,” he murmured, and the mare rotated her near ear in acknowledgment.

Sis led the way to a small stone wharf where a wooden boat was docked. “Do you know about boats?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, looking doubtful. He had not had the experience with boats that he had with horses, but he had used them on occasion. It was part of the business of traveling.

“Then take a paddle.” She lifted a long wooden paddle from the boat and gave it to him.

He caught it on the paddle end and continued to look doubtful. Again he noted her half-masked expression of contempt. Yet there seemed to be interest, too, in the way she covertly assessed him. Yesterday she had tried to get rid of him, because he was left-handed; today she had some other notion. He didn't trust it. That was why he was playing stupid; he did not want her to know his abilities.

“Like this,” she said. She took the other paddle and held it so that the flattened end pointed down. “Now get in the boat.”

He climbed in and sat at the end that floated in the water, facing back. She gave the boat a shove so that it slid the rest of the way into the lake, then stepped in herself. She had to lift one leg high and then the other, showing her firm thighs under the hide skirt. He appreciated again that whatever this woman was or was not, she had a good body.

She settled herself, then stared at him. “Face the other way,” she said shortly.

“Oh.” He had wondered how long it would take her to appreciate this particular evidence of ignorance. He turned himself around clumsily, in the process losing the paddle overboard. Then he almost overturned the boat while reaching for the floating paddle. What a duffer he seemed to be!

They finally got moving, and his paddling improved somewhat under her tutelage. She had taken the rear seat on the assumption that he would not be able to guide the craft, and he had pretty well confirmed that assumption. It was a kind of game that he hoped she did not know was being played. He still didn't know what her own game was.

The island was a distance east as well as offshore. But it was easy paddling, once Sis's sharp corrections enabled him to get the hang of it. He noted that she didn't tell him how to scull, to guide the boat straight forward despite paddling on a single side. So she thought that he would be unable to move the craft efficiently if he found himself alone.